


Starstuff

by sailaway



Series: My Yautja Boyfriend [1]
Category: Alien vs Predator (2004), Predator, Predator (1987), Predator 2 (1990), Predator Series, Predators (2010)
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Sex, Alien/Human Relationships, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Interspecies, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Pheromones, Rough Sex, Xenophilia, Yautja
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 12:44:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13904298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailaway/pseuds/sailaway
Summary: As daunting as his full armor was, she was familiar with it by now; it was his posture that unnerved her. The set of his shoulders, the tension in his arms. The almost imperceptible flex of muscles in his calves, as if readying to leap. She was well aware that he was sain'ja, a blooded warrior, skilled and lethal... but she had never before been under that particular honed focus...





	Starstuff

**Author's Note:**

> Can be read solo.

 

* * *

 

 

Floating through the cosmos was a sleek, vast ship, the likes of which only a scant number of human beings had ever seen. On the fifth deck were the living quarters. Most lacked the luxury of a viewport, but for those senior in rank enough to have their own space rather than sharing a berthing area of bunks, the accommodations were comfortable enough. A half-partition much like a counter divided the front room from the bedchamber, and it was on this counter Kate sat. She couldn't come close to reaching yautja height, not without a step stool, but it was better than nothing.

As for the particular yautja before her, she could never quite manage to pronounce his name – it involved a kind of staccato hum and a couple clicks her vocal cords balked at producing – so she'd settled for the closest approximation.

“Solar,” she said, letting her fingertips drift over his broad shoulders.

It was suitable, anyway. He came from the stars.

His mission didn't depart until tomorrow's day cycle, so he wore no armor yet. With the ship's warm climate-controlled conditions, and in the privacy of their quarters, he was clad only in a mid-thigh loincloth and belt, the long tendrils of his hair swept back and tied with a band of leather.

Where communication had once been stifled it now came easily, weaving between languages and switching or supplementing if necessary. Though many yautja sounds were impossible for her, her more flexible mouth made his native tongue easier for her than hers was for his, though he could understand her English quite well. But for this conversation, she deliberately favored the style and vocabulary of his kind.

“It is an honor when you hunt the _kainde amedha_.” She had only encountered the vile things once before – and once was enough. Even if she did not fully understand the yautja hunting culture, the compulsion to seek out and plunge into the kill, she had no compunction about deaths of the slavering beasts. “But the smaller creatures. The skulls you bring me.”

He cocked his head, mandibles twitching, waiting for her explanation.

“I love your gifts, but sometimes dead things make me sad.” She didn't want to offend him but she didn't want to beat around the bush, either. She was still learning how to balance the formality in his species' speech with their direct intent.

“Why?” he said, a guttural rasp and a click. “What else for gifts if not trophies? I do credit to myself and you with them.”

“You do,” she assured him hurriedly. “And I have many which I treasure. What if now I'd like something new and different? For example, on Earth it's common to give desirable stones set in jewelry, but the stones are very beautiful on their own, and I wouldn't mind something like – ”

“Pebbles from the ground? What use have you for those? Why bother?” His bemusement seemed genuine, as if she was pulling a trick on him. “I would disgrace myself bringing something so low.”

“Rare things,” she clarified. “Special things. I'm only human... I haven't seen all the galaxy has to offer, like you have. It's still exotic and exciting to me. I would be very happy, and impressed, to see curiosities from the planets you visit.”

She knew he wouldn't consider a gift worthy if there was no challenge in obtaining it – even though she'd content with a humble rock, simply by virtue of it being from an alien world and Solar having chosen and brought it to her.

“A gem so precious, hidden so far in the depths of a mountain, it can only be reached by a strenuous journey,” she suggested, painting a picture for him. “A flower that blooms once in a lifetime. I love plants. An uncommon fruit, even.”

“Pittance.”

“But it would please me,” she countered. “Do you wish to please me?”

Her first inclination, courtesy of human social mores and concepts of gender, was to make herself small, and sweet, and to smile and cajole. It's what she might have done, even without any conscious intent, when trying to convince a human man. But Solar was not that. Physically small she might be and yet she tipped her chin up, and met his amber gaze, and let her body language tell him that her request was worthy of his respect and consideration; that she wished him to hearken to her, that she deserved what she asked from him. This approach had felt strange to her at first, high-handed and haughty, but it tended to work.

“I do wish to please you,” Solar relented. He stepped closer, into the slight V of her thighs. She wore a loose tank top and a loincloth similar to his, and it rucked up as he spread her knees apart. “Do I?”

Their relationship was past the peak of newness – perhaps six Earth months, though their calendar was different and it was easy to lose track – but he still made her breath catch and her pulse stutter. His meandering hands were distracting.

“Do you what?”

“Please you.” He bent his head to the side, flaring his lower mandibles enough to rest them on the arc of her collarbone. He had learned the precise amount of pressure to titillate her without piercing her delicate skin.

Once it had unnerved her, the ease with which he could kill her – though the same could be said for most human men. But she was athletic, and all but the brawniest of men would have to exert at least some effort to subdue her. Solar, on the other hand, could brush her aside like a dried leaf if he so chose. The way he picked her up now, for instance, holding her one-armed with her legs around his waist, as if she weighed no more than a sack of groceries as he carried her to the adjoining bedchamber.

If, before all this, she had to guess she would've assumed yautja sleeping accommodations were spartan. She'd have been wrong. While the décor was minimal the bed itself was large and lush, with a mattress made of some unearthly material that made memory foam feel like a concrete slab. Solar typically slept with no top blanket yet the bed itself was layered with dense furs and coverlets, and despite the temperature she often snuggled under one out of habit.

Now he deposited her in the middle of the bed. Around his neck was a choker strung with beads and some animal's tiny sharp teeth, and it swayed forward as he stretched out next to her, one heavy arm draped over her stomach. It was convenient for her that the bed was so excessively big, as he tended to splay out his long limbs like dead weights and not move again until morning. And yet she knew if prompted he would awaken at a pin-drop, ready to spring into action.

“The shuttle leaves early,” he murmured. “Rest with me.”

 

* * *

 

Solar was often away from the ship – scouting duties, planet seeding, a skirmish with pirates, hunting expeditions – but for this particular task, it was impossible for Kate to squash the drip-drip-drip of anxiety for his safety. His team had been deployed to exterminate an overpopulation of the _kainde amedha_ that was crowding out a jungle moon's ecosystem. She trusted his prowess and strength but she also knew how fearsome those monsters could be.

The mission was to last six cycles. She passed the time in the usual way – eating, exercising, sketching, reading from her stash of paperbacks, exercising some more. Fitness was a way of life here, and she'd never been in better shape. At the very beginning she'd been too nervous to move freely about the ship – she was _pyode amedha,_ the soft meat pet, the _ooman_ toy. An outsider. Inferior. But by now she was more of a novelty than anything to get upset about, and was often given no notice at all, which suited her fine.

On the night of the fourth cycle she sat at the wide desk in their quarters, scribbling on a pad of paper. Earlier in the canteen a juvenile thought it would be entertaining to teach her a kind of dice game, and hadn't mocked her too much when she lost badly because she kept mixing up the pictograms on the ten-sided pieces. But she was determined not to crash and burn next time, and was writing the symbols and their meanings before she could forget.

As she was finishing the entry pad beeped. No one would have cause to enter and she startled, on alert – but apprehension gave way to recognition as the door swished open and Solar strode in, still masked and fully armored. When he spotted her there was a muffled chirrup in his throat, a subtle rustle of alertness at the roots of his tendrils, even pulled back as they were.

“ _Gkaun-yte_ ,” she greeted him, rising from her seat. It would be skirting insult to ask if he was okay, as it that implied she expected him to have gotten himself hurt, so instead she settled with, “You're early! I'm glad you're back.”

He did not respond. As daunting as his hunting gear was, she was familiar with it by now; it was his posture that unnerved her. The set of his shoulders, the tension in his arms. The almost imperceptible flex of muscles in his calves, as if readying to leap. She was well aware that he was _sain'ja,_ a blooded warrior, skilled and lethal... but she had never before been under that particular honed focus.

He was never careless with his things, weaponry and armor in particular, but as he stalked towards her he tore them off like they meant nothing – pauldron, cuisses, wristblades, leaving debris in his wake. His bio-mask was the last to go and he discarded it with a clunk, the metal facade giving way to a taut, unblinking glower.

Kate was not really afraid of him, not anymore, but the predatory manner in which he bore down on her sparked the primal instinct to take flight. She almost tripped as she backed away from his aggression. It seemed he wouldn't stop, that he'd simply mow her down, but at the last second he crushed her to him.

The air was knocked out of her, hands splayed against his chest. His skin was hotter and firmer than hers, smooth in some places and textured in others, the latter corresponding to the espresso-brown brindled patterns spreading over his extremities. He smelled mossy and damp, like a forest after spring rain, with a sultry undercurrent of pheromones. This base note was heady, like incense; she'd only noticed it on him once or twice before.

His big hands spanned her waist, pushing her backwards towards the sleeping area, and she had no choice but to defer and move with him if she didn't want to fall. A line of short, pliable black quills slashed down his tapered waist, catching on her dress as he hiked it up to expose her ass and abdomen.

“ _Pyode,_ ” he hissed, once his palms met flesh. Soft. There was no condescension in it, only possessive lust. A swell of returned desire plumed in her belly, interrupted by a jolt of dismay as he ripped at the thin cotton, baring her fully to him.

“Solar!” she complained as he attacked her underwear in the same fashion, the shredded garments falling away and leaving her stark naked. His claws, typically so considerate, made small but stinging marks. “You know I only have so many of those...”

She trailed off at the violent flare of his mandibles. His pupils were blown, rimmed with their usual smoky gold, his breath coming fast. He was often in high spirits when he returned from a successful mission but this felt different; if it were possible she'd swear she could almost see the buzz of adrenaline on him.

He backed her up until she hit the bed, shoving her down so she sank supine into the plush coverings. His gaze didn't waver as he unbelted his loincloth, the proof of his arousal evident even beneath the fabric. His intimidatingly generous cock, green-tinted from blood flow and ridged along the underside of the shaft, was already free of its cup-like, retractable cartilage sheath. It hardened and lengthened further as he stripped away his thermal netting, tossing it aside to stand finally and completely nude before her.

Solar did not afford her the luxury of admiring his lean musculature, prowling up over her body on all fours, knees on either side of hers and fists bracketing her head. He was often an intense lover but this energy was something else, and it both unsettled and excited her. As he loomed over her she was reminded yet again of the sheer brute power of him, of his alien nature, a husky rattle humming through his formidable jaws.

While kissing as she knew it was unavailable to them, there were several trade-offs. She reached to untie his hair and the tendrils swung down around his shoulders, their assorted cuffs and rings clinking together. It wasn't hair, not really; the tress was sensitive to touch and as she ran her hands through the ends he shivered and purred. If she yanked too hard it would be unpleasant for him but a bit, just like that, catching several in each hand and pulling him flush atop her –

He dragged one thumb down her side, leaving a scratch in its wake, deep enough to make her yelp. When he reached the apex of her legs she let out a shaky and involuntary sigh – it was always tantalizing, the combination of his huge warm hand and the potential danger in his claws. He rotated his hand so the heel of his palm covered her clit and she moaned, rubbing up into the pressure. The ends of his tress brushed her breasts, his attention trained laser-like on her face as she rocked into him. As the pads of his fingertips slid over her sex she arched off the bed but this seemed to provoke him and he pushed her down again, restraining her with his weight.

Normally he withheld his full bulk from her but he seemed unconcerned with that now and her breaths were compressed, shallow. Though lightheaded, this somehow only heightened sensation, electrifying that ache of desire as she squirmed beneath him, nails digging into his biceps. He trilled low, almost infrasonic, and as he closed his mandibles over the column of her neck the vibrations traveled through the four points and into her.

Both hands took hold of her hips, finger by finger, his demanding knee pushing between hers and forcing them further open to him. She had to be very aroused to take him and usually he was attentive in that regard, but his movements now were purposeful, brooking no argument, the thick head of his cock jutting insistently against her entrance.

“Solar – ” She didn't know where she was going with the sentence, maybe she said it for the mere intimacy of it, but it was cut off as he growled and breached her in one swift motion.

She gasped, fingers going rigid where she still gripped his arms. He groaned as he sank to the hilt, huffing and bristling as if spurred by fresh adrenaline. Her breathing was already stifled but for a heartbeat or two she couldn't breathe at all, hovering on a knife's edge of pain and pleasure as her body could only yield – was there room in her even to inhale –

He shifted atop her then, and her lungs filled with air, and when she let it out again it was a ragged whine. She felt almost choked, so full of him. He allowed her no time to adjust, driving into her with his powerful hips, releasing his mandibles' hold on her and panting harsh and fast. She would have been slammed into the headboard but he pinned her in place, claws pricking where he held her down.

With each thrust the rim of of the cartilage sheath connected with her clit, stroking her to dizziness as she clung to his shoulders. Each ridge on his cock massaged her inner walls, the slick, throbbing friction never flagging. His rough hand wandered erratically, raking up her rib cage, over one breast and down again, grasping as if a handful of her was not enough.

Trembling, focusing wholly on the cresting pleasure, she squeezed her eyes shut – but they flew open again as Solar captured her face, the space between thumb and forefinger slotting just under her jaw, one claw inevitably puncturing beneath her ear. A trickle of blood, his stare ferocious and transfixing – then the tidal wave of her climax surged over her and she shuddered, silent mouth falling open, body clenching around him.

He came with a strangled roar, hips grinding hard into hers as he hit rock bottom, cock pulsing and spurting the liquid heat of his seed inside her. The hoarse vocalization faded to a rumble, head bowing as he caught his breath, and she let herself go limp as he pulled back and braced on his forearms.

He did not speak right away, chest still rising and falling unsteadily. He angled his head as he examined the blood matting her hair, the welts criss-crossing her torso, the matching bruises forming on her hips.

“What a mess you are,” he remarked. He'd learned that phrase from her. His facial expressions were different from a human's, but she'd become adept at reading them. She relied on mandible position, body language, brows, and the eyes – now they were heavy-lidded and smug as they flicked over her, and she reached up to tug sharply on one of his dreadlocks, earning her a yowl of protest.

“You think this has nothing to do with you?” Her retort was mumbled through a haze of satisfaction, lacking any real venom.

“I always take responsibility for my actions.” He smoothed a hand over the crown of her head. “Where is my med-kit?”

“You threw it on the floor.”

He considered that. “I did,” he acknowledged, pondering such negligence now that he'd returned to his senses.

“Besides, it's fine.” She winced as he withdrew, and he tilted his head at the sound. “It is nothing, Solar, see – I'm not even bleeding anymore.”

He made a sort of drawn out _tsk_ , his equivalent of a 'hmm.' “I am not so sure. _Oomans_ are very fragile.”

She could tell he was teasing. “Then perhaps you should take more care with me,” she replied with faux reproach.

“You wish me to be gentle?” In his language the word matched the meaning, soft and lacking consonants. “That could never be, not when you respond in such lovely fashion to my primitive attentions.”

She blushed – a feature that she suspected he found endearing, though he pretended it only amused him – and pushed at his pectoral. He rolled over and fell back on his elbows, raking his tresses back and observing as she scooted to the edge of the bed.

“I'm going to rinse off.” His release was slippery on her inner thighs, pearlescent in the dim light. His pheromones were dissipating now but she knew that to the yautja, with their keener sense of smell, his scent on her was ever perceptible.

“I too need to wash properly,” came his bass chuckle from behind her. “You are fortunate there was a river on-planet near our landing site, or I would have returned layered with _kainde amedha_ filth!”

She slanted a glance back over her shoulder at him. He sprawled as if proud of himself, clearly unharmed in any way from the mission.

“You have not yet asked me what I brought you,” he clicked.

“You hardly gave me a chance to say hello!”

As he rose and strolled nude to the front room she admired the symmetry of his form, the flex of his back as he picked up his things with far more care than he'd abandoned them. He set them neatly on his desk, to be stowed later in the designated wall compartment. At last he fished around in his tough hide satchel and retrieved an object the size of a cantaloupe obscured in cloth.

“I did not kill the creature inside,” he disclaimed as he returned to the bedchamber, standing before her with his feet planted apart. With that sort of hint, she couldn't possibly guess at what he had but curiosity brought her up on her knees to see.

Without lifting it out of his hands she unwrapped it, and as she did an ethereal light emanated from the bunched fabric. It felt aside to reveal a faintly glowing round shell, almost a perfect circle, dappled pale teal and nearly translucent.

“It belongs to a – a kind of snail,” he said, as if not positive about the word choice. “They leave their shell when they outgrow it.”

“Like a hermit crab,” she murmured in awe, tracing the indentation of the spiral. “It's beautiful.”

Solar watched as Kate placed it on the recessed shelf by the bed with the greatest reverence, as if it were a priceless treasure rather than a castoff animal shell with a bit of mineral phosphorescence. He'd been dubious – he had quite literally plucked it from beneath a fern while on night patrol. Hardly a great feat. But she welcomed the token nonetheless.

She was fit by _ooman_ criteria, and he knew how agile and tenacious she could be when required, but to him she was soft as a cloud. Her skin still carried a sheen of sweat, liberally marked by his urgent claws. He could not bring himself to feel sorry for it. As soon as the shuttle docked and he'd returned to their quarters, riding the high of success, and caught a trace of her airy scent, he felt he would have gone mad with lust had she not been there.

An _ooman_ lover! He would have called it an absurdity not so long ago. He'd taken his fair share of ribbing for it when she began sharing his rooms. He tolerated the harassment so long as it remained ribald and good-natured rather than malicious. One individual had attempted the latter, and Solar had so promptly and effectively put him in his place that the spiteful jab had been the first and last of its kind.

He might have silenced the doubters with boasts: gloating over the intoxicating curves of her body against his, the O her velvet mouth made and the unique things she could do with it, her high breathy sounds of pleasure, like a songbird – but he refrained. Sharing this would somehow be a betrayal; disrespectful.

Even more private were the intimacies he'd once been unsure of. At the very beginning, before their interactions took a turn toward the amorous, Kate's subtle displays of affection (that were apparently as common to her kind as breathing) disoriented him. What did she mean by such unnecessary touches, by toying pointlessly with her hair around him, that bloom of pink in the face not brought on by exertion? He could have dismissed it all as irrelevant _ooman_ nonsense but it nagged at him. And he'd conceded that maybe he liked it. And once he decoded the significance his preoccupation with it – with her – made immediate sense.  
  
The next time he'd seen her he was riveted, drinking in what he had long refused to dwell on, and when he'd gotten her alone he set upon her as if half-rabid with passion. She'd frozen with shock, quickly snapping into the struggle of instinctive alarm, and for a moment he thought his conclusion was utterly wrong – but then she melted into him, and ran her hands up around his neck, and nothing had been the same since.

Now it was difficult to remember when he hadn't been fond of her subconscious gestures and reactions. Her countenance took on a sort of radiance when she saw him unexpectedly; even in the oblivion of sleep she sought his warmth. He thought of her surprised blush the first time he pressed his closed mandibles to her temple and made a noise in his throat like one of her kisses.

Kate turned now, biting her bottom lip, bouncing a little on her toes. A dimple appeared in one cheek; a sign that meant she was about to smile. Or trying not to. She'd once admitted she sometimes suppressed her normal _ooman_ shows of emotion, for worry it might be distasteful. That was indeed right and appropriate for many situations, and thus he appreciated it, but not here. Not with him.

She reached out, slim fingers curling in anticipation of his acceptance. “Come shower with me?”

Solar's hand engulfed hers. He didn't need to be asked twice.

 

 

* * *

 

 


End file.
